


7

by stelleappese



Series: 30 drabbles [2]
Category: Utopia (TV 2013)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 07:52:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16551905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelleappese/pseuds/stelleappese
Summary: “There’s no reason to kill me, and we both know you need a reason,” Lee says. “You’re right,” Wilson says, and shoots him in the leg.





	7

“There’s no reason to kill me, and we both know you need a reason,” Lee says. “You’re right,” Wilson says, and shoots him in the leg.

Judging by the helpless, almost awed look Lee gives Wilson as he lies on the floor, right hand pressing against the wound to try and stop the bleeding, he was not expecting this.

“Things have changed,” Wilson says. “I was promoted, you could say.”  
“Congratulations,” Lee says, panting a little, his voice unsteady.   
Wilson slowly crosses the room and crouches next to Lee. He points the gun at Lee’s temple, tilts his head as he studies his face. “That thing you said. About me needing a reason to kill…”  
“On second thought, I guess I did give you a few of those…” Lee smiles. Wilson had promised himself he would stay calm, but that goddamned smile grates on his nerves enough that he instinctively slams the butt of the gun against the side of Lee’s head. He doesn’t let Lee flop on the floor, though; he grabs him by the hair and keeps him up, pressing the gun against his throat.  
“Maybe I need a reason to kill.“ he growls, "Maybe I am  _that_  easy to read. But I’ve got you figured out too, you know.”  
“That so?” Lee asks, and tilts his head a little to spit blood on the floor.  
“What would your life be like without someone telling you what to do?” Wilson asks. And for the first time since they first met, something in Lee’s expression hardens.  
“I would do just fine.” he says.  
“A few months were enough to put you off kilter. Imagine a lifetime of that. Hiding in some remote shithole without a single fucking thing to do all day.”

He’s breathing harder, now, eyes wide. He likes to brag about how nothing scares him, but that must not be  _exactly_  true.

“Am I wrong?”   
“I could do it.” Lee hisses, “I know exactly what needs to…”   
“Three months and you’d end up with your head in a noose.”   
“It would’ve been much nicer of you if you’d shot me in the head five minutes ago and saved me from this conversation.”   
There’s a click as Wilson cocks the gun. Lee’s mouth snaps shut.   
“I need a reason, you don’t. Killing  _is_  your reason. So, I’m considering letting you stay and kill for me.”   
“You’re  _considering_  it?”   
“I’m considering it.”   
“How much longer are you going to keep considering?”   
“Until I know we understand each other.” Wilson says, and lets go of Lee’s hair to stick a finger straight into Lee’s wound.

The surprise and pain in the howl that comes out of Lee’s mouth are possibly the most satisfying thing Wilson’s heard to date, but he cuts them short by slapping his bloodied hand against Lee’s mouth and grabbing his face. “We are not friends. I tell you what to do, and you do it. Is that clear?”   
Lee nods, still making little noises against Wilson’s hand. He closes his eyes for a long moment, gasps when Wilson finally lets him go and stands up.   
“Is that clear?” Wilson repeats.   
“Yes,” Lee pants.   
Wilson hesitates for a moment. There is something inside Wilson’s head, something remote and weak, that screams to go get help: The pool of blood underneath Lee is getting bigger, the red on his yellow suit stands out eerily, and he does look like he’s in a lot of pain.   
“You know what?” Wilson says, considering all those facts and completely ignoring them, “I’d like to hear you beg for it.”   
That’s when that cheeky fucking smile comes back on Lee’s face, and his big, deceivingly innocent eyes glimmer with something Wilson can’t decipher.   
“Let me work for you, skipper,” he says, softly, “Pretty please?”   
“I should’ve shot you in the head,” Wilson says.   
“Now, why would you say that?” Lee almost purrs, “We’re going to have so much fun.”   
“Whatever. Stay there, someone will come and get you.” Wilson grumbles, walking away from him and trying to pretend he can’t hear him giggle like the fucking psycho he is.


End file.
